


Questions

by Scarlat7



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Roronoa Zoro-centric, Zoro is basically a philosopher with how many questions he has in his little green head, bad grammar, bad sequentiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlat7/pseuds/Scarlat7
Summary: Zoro had always been fairly simple-minded. He had an objective and he did everything in his power to achieve it. Simple. Easy. No “ifs” or “buts”, there were no questions or distractions, just the deeply rooted knowledge of the looming challenge ahead.As if Sanji would ever let things be so simple.





	Questions

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored in class one day and began to write this. And then I was bored another day in class and decided to finish it. So it's not the best example of consistency you'll ever see. I didn't really remember what I was doing when I wrote each part. So... yeah.
> 
> Read at your own risk.

It was annoying, more than anything.

Zoro had always been fairly simple-minded. He had an objective and he did everything in his power to achieve it. Simple. Easy. No “ifs” or “buts”, there were no questions or distractions, just the deeply rooted knowledge of the looming challenge ahead. Joining the Straw Hats was a bit distracting at first. Luffy was an acquired taste, to say the least. But the random fights he got in were a kind of training as well, even if some were really uncalled for. Fighting was fighting and Zoro loved a good fight.

Which brought him to his present problem.

The cook.

His dream was his priority and always would be. He had promises to keep. But damn if the cook didn’t make it awfully hard to concentrate on that. Everytime he was training and the other man would saunter by, in his way to serve the girls’ drinks, Zoro couldn’t help but glance at him. And it happened a lot. 

Which brought, of course, the questions.

Why?

That simple question, in all its variations and forms, wouldn’t leave his mind.

He would be training and “Why can’t I just focus?”. He would be eating and “Why is he so sure of himself?”. He would be fighting with the cook and “Why are all our interactions like this?”. He would be carrying bags of supplies across a village and “Why is he so damn taken by all women he sees?”.

Zoro didn’t have the answers, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to ask the cook, so whenever the buzzing in his brain got too loud to bear, Zoro started a fight with Sanji. Trading insults was fun and sparring let some of the steam out, but as the hours passed by the swordsman would once again begin to entertain all those irritating questions.

Annoying. Seriously annoying. Just fitting that damn cook.

\-----

As the pirates who had been dumb enough to attack the Straw Hats fell around Zoro, he caught a sudden movement to his right. A long led wooshed by, falling deadly on a poor guy’s ribcage. 

“What you looking at, Marimo?”, the blond demanded, taking his cigarette out to let a puff of smoke fly through the air.

“Your shitty excuse for a fight, curly-brow”.

And as the blond went away to kick those poor bastards, Zoro would ask himself how. “How those bloody skinny legs had so much raw power inside?”.

The swordsman knew how strong the cook was, despite all his insults declaring otherwise. He trusted the other man to hold his own and to have his back in a fight. Even though they wouldn’t ever know who would win in an all out battle between them, Zoro knew them to be at least equally matched. The cook would give just as good as he would take.

When the battle had died down and the crew was lazily going through the enemy ship looking for anything of value to get as prize, he was once again stuck besides the cook trading meaningless jibes. When the blond entered their storage room, he suddenly halted, making Zoro almost crash into him. 

“Hm, I guess I lucked out. To be found by you of all people”, a sturdy man said meanly. “What the fuck are those clothes? You’re … what? The captain’s kept boy?”, he finished with an obnoxious laugh.

The cook stood there, calmly, as if the guy had commented on the weather, and not deeply insulted him. He slowly put his hand in his trouser pockets and sighed heavily. “How can he be so calm about this? That guy just called him a…”, Zoro couldn’t even finish the thought in his own head. Despite their open animosity against one another, he respected the other man too much not to get completely livid at that low-level pirate’s implication.

“Look, if you…”, the blond began to say but was interrupted by the other man’s growl.

“I don’t give a shit. Your captain is probably going to kill me anyway, so just be a nice bitch, blondie, and let me enjoy the rest of my life”, he finished with a smug grin. He leered at the man, slowly eating up the long legs with his eyes. “I won’t be rough, hm. Unless you ask for it nicely”.

And that was the last straw. A vein popped on the cook’s front and a look of pure disgust overtook his features. With two long strides and a well-placed kick, he pinned the man to the opposite wall. The man struggled, but to no avail. That leg was much more strong than the weakling.

“There’s nothing wrong with having some class, you fucking brainless ape. I’m this crew’s cook. I may not be as muscular as some, but I can still kick your ass all the way to the East Blue”.

The cook leaned down, blowed some smoke on the man’s face and looked heavenward. He remained quiet while the pirate coughed. Despite the lack of tension in the blond’s demeanor, Zoro could sense the thick aura of aggressiveness he emanated. 

“However, even if I was sleeping with another man, I certainly wouldn’t be anyone’s bitch”, and silently stretched out once more, the only thing to be heard was the scared man’s heavy breathing. “A damn shame you won’t live long enough to learn the errors of your ways”.

He let the man slide down to the floor and swiftly brought his heel down the other man’s skull, which broke with a dull crack.

“Now my suit is all filthy with his useless blood. C’mon, mosshead, make yourself useful and grab that chest over there for Nami-san”.

Zoro grunted and went to pick up the heavy chest, letting the insult slide. He remained silent as he followed the blond around. If he commented anything that just happened, there surely would be a fight, and not the fun kind. “How does he hide it so well?”. The swordsman was strong, he knew it and his enemies knew it. He wore his strength like an armor, foes trembling at the mere sight of him. In this aspect the cook was more like their captain. Just like Luffy, Sanji had that unthreatening look to him, he would fit just as well in a fancy restaurant as in the middle of a war, but you would never know by looking at him. Zoro could think up countless advantages of not outwardly showing one’s power, so he let himself silently envy the bastard.

The fact that the crew’s resident cook couldn’t leave his mind? An admiration of the other’s strength, nothing more.

And screw the voice in his head saying Usopp was supposed to be the liar.

\-----

The crew was waiting for the log pose in a small island, so everyone decided to have some fun and go for a night out. The club was busier than expected, a huge crowd taking over most tables and the dancefloor. The ambiance was nice, dim lights contrasting with the dark and making people’s features sharper.

Robin, Franky and Zoro were sitting at a table drinking beer, while Chopper was trying hard not to doze off with a glass of milk grasped between his hooves. Meanwhile Luffy, Usopp and Brook were doing something not even remotely like dancing in the middle of the dancefloor, much to the horror of the remaining guests. Sanji had been for fifteen minutes at the counter with Nami, certainly trying to describe a fancy cocktail to the bartender, who was getting increasingly frustrated with the two of them.

Zoro was in the middle of a heated retelling of his last adventures exploring the island (he didn’t get lost, shut it, Frank), when Nami dropped onto a chair besides them. Eyeing the orange and green monstrosity she carried, Zoro wondered why anyone would pay so much for something that had hardly any alcohol left in it. Class, Marimo, a concept you very obviously haven’t grasped yet in that green head of yours, the cook’s voice said in his head. Even his unconscious representation of him was irritating. Figures.

“Oi, sea witch, where’s the cook?”

“He said he was going to dance”, the red-head answered.

Zoro slowly scanned the crowd, until his eyes landed on the slim figure dancing near Luffy and the others. The difference was striking. Where Luffy’s moves were animatic, Sanji’s were slow; where Usopp’s were spastic, a mess of limbs nearly missing those around, the cook’s were contained, controlled; where Chopper’s were innocent, the blond’s were sinful, inviting.

“When did he get so… so… that”? The swordsman couldn’t take his eyes off of him. The man’s hips were swaying to the beat of the music, his arms and hands following in slow, practiced motions. Zoro had never stopped to think of the blond’s legs as more than weapons. They were long because he needed a better reach in a fight and strong just so he could easily break bones. They were much like his swords and that was it. But yeah, maybe those long, flexible legs would be useful for other things as well…

He could feel his ears blushing at the thought. Never one to let life’s blows take him down, Zoro merely accepted the fact he was apparently attracted to that irritating curly-brow. He had never got horny watching a man, but he didn’t often get watching women either, so it wasn’t that surprising. He could just as easily fight off hundreds of men as before, liking a man didn’t make him weaker, didn’t emasculate him, didn’t change his ambition nor hindered his dreams. He was the same, no matter if he got hot thinking of strong legs wrapping around him.

All in all, it was expected. Nothing but strength could get Roronoa Zoro’s attention. A fight was a fight, no matter what the opponent had packed between their legs. So.. Sanji? He could deal. Deal with the fact the other was a man, that is, not deal with him per se.

“When did he stopped being Nakama and started being something more”? Well, that was a dumb question. Zoro kinda knew the answer to that one. It was between insults, or when a foot met a blade, maybe around the hundredth time they saved each other’s lives, in the middle of a battle or in a sunny day on Merry’s deck. It happened everywhere, in a slow and steady manner, bit by bit, always there and at the same time taking him by surprise.

The swordsman was taken out of his reverie by a figure approaching the cook. The man put his hands on the blond’s hips and Zoro’s felt a wave of jealousy wash over him. Not that it lasted long, because Sanji stopped his movements and slowly turned to face the newcomer, removing his hands from his body in the process. The swordsman couldn’t hear what was being said, but by the expression on the cook’s face it wasn’t going well. It was even clearer by the blond storming off to rejoin their table.

“How can people be such pricks?”, he complained upon arriving.

“What happened, Sanji-san?”, Robin asked in her usual calm matter.

“Just some asshole going about blonds, slim bodies, dancing and… you get the picture”, he finished with a frown. “I know I’m not buff, but that doesn’t make me a… gay twink or something”.

Well, that answers that. The tone of disgust Sanji has put behind those words killed any intentions Zoro ever nourished of telling his nakama how he felt. He was so obsessed with women it bordered on disgusting. No matter how he respected and acknowledged Nami’s and Robin’s strengths, he wouldn’t fight other women for anything in the world, preferring to treat them like delicate flowers instead of worthy opponents. Every time Zoro saw the Love-cook’s treatment of the opposite sex he remembered Kuina’s claims of already being an inferior swordsman because she was a girl.

People like Sanji didn’t help girls by pampering them, much to the contrary. They made little girls think they couldn’t be as fierce and strong a fighter as the boys. Zoro knew that and he hoped his nakama would eventually learn as well.

“What the hell you looking at, Marimo?”

“Nothing, you shithead”, the green-haired man replied, as the blond rolled his eyes. “Nothing at all”, he mumbled to himself.

\-----

The cook was acting weird.

Zoro observed him way too much, so he was basically an expert on “Ero-cook’s usual behaviour” and he could testify the other man had been acting weird lately. Every time he had come to the galley to train in the past week the cook was already there. He was never doing anything in particular, just smoking and staring at the sea. Which wasn’t unusual, the real problem were the sighs.

The cook always looked sad, but the kind of sad that spoke of longing and impossible things, not just run-of-the-mill “I’m kinda down” vibes. It was almost beautiful, the image he made. The breeze gently pushing back the locks that usually hid half oh his face, while the smoke slowly drifted up and away into nothingness.

But it wasn’t only that. The blond wasn’t picking up any fights with him lately, nor displaying his usual overattetion towards the girls, acting like he had to remind himself that the ladies needed his “utmost respect and devotion, you marimo shit-head”. Something had definitely happened to him and Zoro wanted the normal Sanji back.

So naturally he went to Robin.

“There’s nothing wrong with Sanji-san, Zoro”, the woman said with a smirk. “Nothing that can be fixed, at least”.

“What do you mean? That can be fixed?”

“Our dear Cook-san is in love”, she paused, as if waiting for the green-haired man to process the information. “We just have to let it run its course”.

“Ha! As if, Robin. The shit cook is always in love with a random woman, why would it be different this time?”

“Oh, no, Zoro-san…”, she slowly shook her head. “Don’t mistake infatuation with love. I’m talking about the kind of affection that can move mountains, the one that keeps you up at night and doesn’t leave your head alone during the day.”

“Love..?”

After that conversation it was like a switch had been flipped in Zoro’s mind. Every time he saw the cook thinking he couldn’t help but notice the sadness in his gaze. “Who is he thinking about?” Is she a girl he met in one of the villages? Or maybe a pirate as well?

One day, when Zoro had been putting up with the cook’s annoying sighs for one hour already, the swordsman broke. He had tried really hard to just concentrate on his training, but it was difficult when he couldn’t count up to five without a lovesick sigh interrupting him.

“Will you stop with the kicked puppy attitude, already?”, Zoro snapped at the blond, dropping his weights with a loud bang in the process.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Marimo?”, the blond screamed right back.

“You haven’t stopped moping around for a month now. Is this girl you love that nice, cook?”

“What? There’s no... “, the cook started saying, but stopped midway. His eyes widened for a second, before a look of realisation took over his face. “Oh… So you’ve noticed”, he whispered.

“Yeah, hard not to. Who’s she?”, he asked, faking disinterest.

“Who’s this girls who has you when I can’t?”

The cook turned his back to the swordsman, taking a long puff out of his cigarette. Time seemed to have stopped, without any of the men making a move to speak again.

“Who’s got you daydreaming like that?”

She was probably slim where Zoro was broad. With tiny, delicate hands, not rough and calloused things like his. Oh no, she must have long and lustrous hair, a big pair of boobs and nothing hanging between the legs. Knowing the cook she would be refined as well, a girl he could take to fancy restaurants and speak French with.

Basically everything Zoro was not.

The swordsman was taken out of this thoughts by a calm “It doesn’t matter, y’know. It’s impossible. This thing I wish for”, the cook paused to take another puff off his cigarette. “We don’t really get along”.

“I never knew impossible to stop you, cook”.

The other man quickly turned his head around at that, staring intensely at the swordsman, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. With every battling of blond eyelashes Zoro got more unsettled under that gaze.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right”. 

\-----

Over the course of the next month Sanji kept acting weird and on top of that he got the habit of talking with Zoro. Actual talking, without kicks or shouting.

It was a nice change.

All of Zoro’s conflicts came to a resolution after a particular unparticular fight with a bunch of no-ones. Luffy was wreaking havoc as usual and the other two members of the monster trio were beating goons. They were winning without as much as breaking a sweat, which was precisely why Zoro was so taken back when Sanji suddenly appeared in front of him.

The blond arrived with a powerful kick right on his belly, strong enough to knock him a couple feet back. When the swordsman recovered from the blow all he could see was red.

Red slowly drenching the cook’s dress shirt, red pooling on the floor beside his nakama’s body. Red tainting his fair blond locks.

But Zoro was a pirate of the Strawhats, and a fighter long before that. Blood didn’t scare him, neither did seeing someone hurt on the battlefield. No matter how important that someone was. He quickly jumped into action, carefully picking the cook up, instantly relieved by the grunt the other man left out as he did so. He rushed to the Sunny, calling Chopper on the way.

After about an hour of waiting, Chopper and Sanji walked out of the room, the latter without his shirt and showcasing a bandage around his left shoulder. After blabbering about painkillers and changing dressings to an acquiescing Sanji, Chopper left the room. The cook looked fine, so Zoro naturally punched him across the face.

“What the fuck, you brainless moss head? Wanna die?!”, Sanji shouted lividly at his companion.

“Apparently someone wouldn’t let me even if I did, huh?”, he shouted right back, invading the cook’s personal space as he did so. “I don’t need protecting, cook. And I don’t want some stupid life debt linking me to you”.

“You wouldn’t want to be in any way linked to me, right?”, he said scathingly.

“That’s not what I meant, you shithead. I’m tired of this scrificing bullshit you’ve got going on”.

“Yeah. Because nobody is allowed to protect this crew except the mighty Roronoa Zoro”.

“I don’t want to see you die, you asshole”, the swordsman replied, grabbing the cook smaller frame by the shoulder, not letting go even as a pained grimace crossed the blond’s face. “I can’t bear to open my eyes one day and discover another person I loved died on me”.

A whole minute passed by with only two ragged breathings breaking the silence permeating the room. Zoro was bracing himself to the look of disgust, or worse, pity, that would be directed at him any moment now. But, as always, the damn cook couldn’t give him the satisfaction of being right, no. He kept staring at him with a dumbstruck face that really didn’t fit his character at all.

It was so much better when they were screaming at each other.

“Okay. Whatever. I’ll just…”, the swordsman was saying as he turned away from the other, only to be interrupted by a hand grasping his own.

“I like you, marimo”, Sanji stated, blue eyes looking unmoving at his own. “I made my peace with that a long time ago”. 

“What?”, he bluttered.

Then the blond’s lips touched his.

And once again there were no questions on his mind.


End file.
